


Weeds

by Antigravitykitty



Category: HiGH&LOW (Movies), HiGH&LOW: the Story of S.W.O.R.D. (TV)
Genre: Gen, Other, because they absolutely should be friends, being bored with murayama, it's really nothing spectacular in any way, just those two hanging out, no idea how to use tags yet, not the smoking kind though, slice of life i guess, smoking with Hyuga, weeds are mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 04:33:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14845775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antigravitykitty/pseuds/Antigravitykitty
Summary: Murayama is bored. Hyuga likes flowers. Thats it.





	Weeds

Murayama was bored. So bored. Time seemed as syrupy as the hot and humid summer air, slowly blowing in through the broken windows at Ohya High. He laid sprawled out on an old couch, trying not to move too much while watching Seki halfheartedly take a jab at Todoroki who answered his insults with sneers. It was too hot and humid to fight, every movement a struggle against the dense air. Murayama watched the reflection of a sunbeam on a shard of glass and contemplated grabbing it, holding it tight in his hand until his palms would bleed. But then what? After his wound would be stitched up he would be just as bored as before, the outcome not worth the effort. He could hear the others talk and the pettiness of their squabbles made his thoughts race against the inside of his skull in circles, circles, circles, why couldn’t they stop, why couldn’t they fight, why couldn’t they do anything?  
He suddenly jerked up, feeling as if his movement dug a groove through the almost liquid air, the space behind his body slowly being filled after his body passed through. The droning of the other stopped, questioning looks towards him, but not too inquisitive, it was just too hot.  
He grabbed his bag with one hand and trudged out, every step sending ripples through the air.  
Once he left school he could breathe just a little bit lighter, the air still being thick as honey but now the sound of the cicadas drowned out his thoughts and the smell of hot cement being oddly comforting. He walked away from Ohya and for a moment he wondered what would be if he didn’t come back, and the slight pain that he felt, imagining not hanging out with Seki anymore was a second of something that was not boredom and so it was good.  
He wandered aimlessly, staying on the shady side of the road, and he wondered if he should stop by a convenience store. No, he was broke.  
He looked into an alleyway and saw trees at the other side, and because the alleyway was shady, he followed it. He climbed a wire fence and landed amongst a group of trees, the air cooling down noticeable in their shadows. He felt as if he could move easier, breathe easier. 

The trees belonged to the old temple ground, although the actual temple was not to be seen from here since he climbed the fence in the back of the area. It was still early in the day and the cicadas drowned out any loud noises from the temple itself so he assumed that not too many guys from Daruma Ikka were here. He wondered if they would fight him if they caught him. He hoped it. 

He kept walking and could now see the temple emerge under the trees. There really didn’t seem to be anyone here, until he caught a movement at the back of the temple. At least one of them was here. He wondered if he should challenge whoever was there. He wondered if it would be Hyuga. He wondered if he could beat him. Oh well, he would find out.

It really was Hyuga, leaning on a bassin used to wash the hands of everyone who would want to pray at the temple, holding the big wooden ladle, used to scoop water out of the bassin. He was drenched, water dripping from his hair down onto the collar of his shirt, he must have held his head under water in the bassin and just now he used the spoon to pour water over his shirt. Murayama envied him. The water looked clear, cool, fresh, ready to wash away the salt from his body and the stickyness from his mind. Hyuga dropped the ladle into the bassin and took a couple steps, disappearing from view. Murayama followed him, calling out “Oy, Hyuga”.  
When he reached the bassin he could see Hyuga, about to sit down at the stairs of the temple, looking over a small patch of weeds. Most of the weeds were in full bloom, purple, yellow, red blossoms in the dirt. He didn’t look surprised to see him, but then again, when did he ever look surprised. Murayama wondered if he would be surprised if he would attack him now. Probably not. 

“Why are you here?” Hyuga asked.  
“I dont know.” and that was apparently an answer good enough because Hyuga shrugged and kept looking over the weeds.   
Murayama reached for the ladle, wondering if Hyuga could reach him if he decided to jump at him. Probably.   
He dipped the ladle into the water, filled it and emptied it out over his face and the water was everything that he hoped it to be. It was cold and clear and he could feel it wash away the dirt and salt from his face.   
He wondered if Hyuga would fight him if he would step closer to the stairs to see what he was looking at. Maybe.   
He moved towards Hyuga, asking  
“What are you looking at?”  
Hyuga didn’t turn his head to look at him.  
“Are you blind? At the flowers.”  
“Those aren’t flowers, those are weeds.”  
“And how the fuck would you know the difference between flowers and weeds?”  
“Of course I know the difference, you learn that shit in school”  
“Heh. you don’t study though. Might be flowers”  
“Whatever. The white ones are weeds though. You have to mull the whole ground because they have roots and will come back if you just burn them”  
Now Hyuga lifted his eyebrows. Amusement or surprise or something else.  
“Why would i do that?”  
“To get rid of them. They’re weeds.”  
“They’re tough little fuckers. They can stay”  
“Whatever. Not my garden.”   
“Yeah “

Hyuga reached next to him for a pack of cigarettes. Murayama wondered if he would offer him one. He did. And so they sat on the stairs, a careful distance apart and smoked and looked at the weeds and the day was still impossibly hot and humid and the water on Murayamas skin turned into sweat but he wasn’t bored. And he wondered if that was enough to make this a good day. It was.


End file.
